


When the Party's Over

by meetmebehindthemall (orphan_account)



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Bathing/Washing, F/M, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Love Confessions, Relapsing, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:07:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/meetmebehindthemall
Summary: After a stressful day, Duncan comes hope to find that you’ve relapsed with your self harm, unaware that you had struggled with it. Comfort ensues, with Duncan taking care of his girl.





	When the Party's Over

“Hey babe, I’m home!”

You heard the front door creak open, and internally panicked, forgetting that he was coming home soon.

“Um, hold on!” You shouted back, anxiety bubbling inside of you at the thought of Duncan finding you like this.

You were in your underwear and a bathrobe, deep cuts ingrained in your flesh, high up on your thighs, and some on your wrists.

“You okay, honey?” You heard Duncan ask, and tried to wipe away your tears, tying your bathrobe at your waist, concealing your thigh cuts. You could hear him getting closer to your shared bedroom, and quickly threw away the bloody razer lying on your bedside table into the trashcan.

“Yeah, yeah, um, just give me a moment,” you said, the emotion evident in your voice.

“You sure?” Duncan asked, worry coating his beautiful voice.

“Yeah, I’ll be out in a moment,” you replied, grabbing a wet tissue and cleaning the blood off your wrists and thighs, before turning to the mirror and making yourself presentable.

The sting from your cuts irritated you, but that didn’t compare to how shit you felt inside. It got insanely busy at work today, and you stressed yourself out quickly trying to balance 4 positions at once. Your boss yelled at you when you inevitably fucked up from the pressure and sent you home early. 

At the memory of the encounter, your throat tightened in that annoying way it does, like someone closed a fist around it, and your eyes burned with newly fresh tears.

You gritted your teeth and resisted the urge to cut again in frustration and self-loathing, instead opting to wipe away the tears, and steeled yourself to face Duncan. You trusted and loved him, after all you guys had been dating for 6 months now, but you didn’t want him to see you like this. You knew he wouldn’t be angry or anything, but you didn’t want him to see you weak and broken down.

After taking a deep breath, you walked out of the room, into Duncan’s waiting arms, burying your puffy red face into his neck, breathing his musky cologne in deep.

“Rough day?” He asked softly, rubbing your back and kissing the top of your head gently.

You made a confirming noise, and Duncan pulled back, hands holding your forearms as he inspected you.

“I’m sorry, baby. But I’m here now.”

You nodded, smiling slightly as you leaned up on your toes to kiss him.

“I love you. So much.”

“I love you too,” he mumbled back, big hands cupping your face, as he wiped at your tears. “Want me to run you a bath?”

“That would be great, thank you,” you said, shuffling off to your bedroom to get your bath products and pajamas.

When it was a good 10 minutes, you went to the bathroom, turning the faucet off and adding bubbles.

You slipped off your bathrobe, and stared at yourself in the mirror, resisting an urge to sob again at the bright red, ragged scars adorning your body.

You heard a gasp, and whirled around to face Duncan, unaware he had walked into the room. He was holding some chocolate ice cream, and a box of tissues, and his eyes were fixed onto your scars.

Setting the items aside on the bathroom counter, he leaned over to grab onto your hands, looking deeply into your eyes. 

“Y/N, baby, how long has this been going on?”

You erupted into a wave of new tears and sobbed against his shoulder as he rested his chin on top of your head, “It’s not the first time, it’s just been awhile since I did it. I was doing so good.”

“Shh, it’s okay. Just let me take care of you, okay?”

You nodded and let him guide the rest of your clothes off, gently helping you into the bathtub. 

Duncan grabbed a pitcher from under the sink, and carefully wet your hair, proceeding to lather it in your favorite shampoo, and rubbing your body with a foamy, strawberry scented body wash.

The warm water and soap made your cuts sting slightly, and you winced. He took notice, and kissed your wrists delicately, whispering, “My strong girl.”

After draining the bath, and drying you off with a fluffy towel, he helped you back into your bathrobe, and sat you on the bed, toweling off your hair.

“What happened?”

You sighed, and explained it all, your day, and how you proceeded to get home and take your razor to your thighs and wrists. It had been about 2 months before you had met Duncan when you had done it last, but it was an unhealthy way of dealing with your stress that brought you some minor comfort.

You tended to do it after negative social interactions, or stressful days, even unconsciously about to do it sometimes, before stopping yourself.

After telling him all this, you asked him, “Do you think I’m weak, now?”

He looked shocked and shook his head saying, “Of course not, darling. I love you, and just want to support you. You’re so much stronger and braver than you know. It doesn’t make you weak, it’s just an unhealthy coping mechanism. Have you ever talked to anyone else about this?”

You shook your head and looked down to where Duncan was softly rubbing circles on your hands.

He sighed and brought your hands up to his mouth, lips gently kissing your hands, stubble scratching your skin.

“Alright, do you trust me?”

After nodding, he continued, “I’m gonna book you a session with a family session. She’s helped my mother for years; I think you’ll like her.”

Nodding, you smiled tearfully and wrapped yourself around him in a tight embrace. “We’ll get you help love; I promise. You’re gonna be just fine.”

You nuzzled into his neck, whispering, “I feel safe with you.”

“You are,” he replied. “I know it wasn’t really your choice to tell me but thank you so much for trusting me with your story. I love you so unbelievably much, Y/N.”

“I love you too,” you said, feeling warm and fuzzy inside at being with this man. “So much.”


End file.
